


What was lost

by trashbinofdestiny



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Power Imbalance, Slavery AU, references to past violence, smut only after the power imbalance is dealt with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashbinofdestiny/pseuds/trashbinofdestiny
Summary: Gladiolus Amicitia is the heir to his family line, and as such has been ordered to obtain an omega, and a suitable heir, before his father casts him out entirely. What Gladio finds are three young men, one of whom bears the same name as the long-dead Prince Noctis, and a whole wealth of complications.





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, sirs!”

Gladiolus Amicitia tried not to groan. Behind him, his family retainer, Jared, slapped him on the back in a half-hearted show of sympathy. Gladio stood at the open door of a large, heavily-curtained tent in the middle of Insomnia’s main market square, breathing through his mouth while a skinny man in an ill-fitting suit bustled up to him. It was the third such tent he’d visited since dawn, and he could feel the start of a headache banging at his temples.

“Goodness,” said the man, smiling wide. “Is that the Amicitia crest on your jacket, sir? May I be so bold as to assume that you are, in fact, looking for an omega companion?”

There wasn’t any other reason for Gladio to set foot in the chaotic mess that was the market square, and the man knew it. Gladio attempted a smile of his own, but it was obviously pained. Ever since the death of the royal family in an Imperial attack some twelve years before, the Amicitias were the closest Lucis had left to royalty. And so Gladio had been informed, multiple times and in increasingly louder tones, that it was his duty to find a mate and continue the line before his father went out and bought a mate for him. So there he was, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of omega, while yet another simpering alpha businessman showed him around a dark, stuffy tent.

“Please, Gladiolus,” Jared whispered, as a line of smiling, desperate-looking omegas were ushered forward. “Keep your opinions to yourself this time.”

Gladio winced. The tent proprietor was speaking, giving the names and skill-sets of each omega he presented, but Gladio wasn’t paying attention. As always, his gaze was drawn to the back of the tent, to the areas the tent owners didn’t want their high-end customers to look. He’d been kicked out of the last tent for saying, in a loud, booming voice, that if the late prince were still around, anyone caught chaining an omega would have their heads up on the Citadel walls, but at least that practice wasn’t in use here. 

He stopped at the sight of three omegas sitting in the far corner, the only ones who hadn’t stood to examine the new alpha walking into the tent. Without so much as a word to the man rattling off names and numbers, Gladio turned from him and Jared. 

The smallest omega was a slender man who looked to be in his early twenties, with shaggy black hair and a narrow face. He was sitting with his shoulder against the chest of a taller brunette, whose face was marred by burn scars over his eyes and cuts on his lip and cheek. His left eye was sealed shut, and his right was milky-white, with only the faintest suggestion of the iris beneath. To _his_ left was a blond with broad shoulders and the sort of freckled, open expression that belonged with the omegas the tent owner had shown Gladio at the front. A guard stood next to them, glancing at them now and then with a disgusted, weary look in his eyes. 

“Ah, sir,” the proprietor said, stumbling up behind Gladio. “I’m afraid these three are not exactly of the caliber befitting one of your, ah, station. They’ve already bonded to one another, you see. Practically worthless on their own.”

The blond looked up at Gladio. The dark-haired omega didn’t bother, pointedly ignoring him.

“However,” the proprietor said. “There might be a chance, since this one only bonded with them recently… Prompto, stand up.”

The blond tried to jump to his feet, but the dark-haired omega growled in the back of his throat, dragging him down by one arm. The exasperated guard grunted and raised a hand to strike, and the blind omega held the dark-haired one down with both arms, placing himself between the whistle of the guard’s hand and his mate. The guard drew back.

“Ignis,” the dark-haired omega hissed. “Ignis, no. They aren’t taking Prom.”

Prompto looked from his companions to Gladio. If he were smart, he’d step away from them. He’d be like the others in the tent, smiling and fawning, hoping for a better class of alpha to come along. He was pretty enough to pull it off. Instead, he inched closer to Ignis, placing a hand on his light brown hair. Ignis smiled wryly, and the scar at his lip tugged the corner of his mouth.

“You see what I mean,” the proprietor said. “The best we can do is split them up and hope the bond breaks.” The dark-haired omega’s growl rose in volume, and Ignis bowed over him as Prompto whispered frantically, eyeing the guard. “If you’ll direct your attention to the front of the tent, sir, you’ll see that there’s…”

“I’ll take them.”

The proprietor and Jared stared at Gladio blankly. 

“Gladiolus,” Jared said. “I am under orders from your father to provide you with a mate, not half-wild charity cases.”

“I’ll take them,” Gladio said again. “All three. How much?”

The tent owner raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “On your own head be it,” he said, and flipped open his notebook. The false, cheery smile returned. “Now, since they’re coming to you already bonded, the price will rise considerably…”


	2. Chapter 2

Gladio’s brand new omegas were to be brought up to his apartments that afternoon, which gave Gladio plenty of time to have a shouting match with his father in one of the small offices to the side of the unused throne room of the Citadel. The subject of omegas was their one real source of conflict, but it made up for their lack of disagreement in other matters by rendering both of them brittle with fury by the end of it. Clarus took Gladio’s new acquisition as a deliberate slight, going overboard just to try him, and Gladio made the mistake of suggesting that maybe his sister Iris, as a beta, would be much better suited as a mother when she came of age, and perhaps the inheritance of the Amicitia line should fall to her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

So when Gladio swung open his apartment door with a bang that made the wall shudder, he’d all but forgotten that it was well into the evening already.

“Shit.”

He looked up to see the blonde omega, Prompto, turning from where he stood next to Ignis in the kitchen. The cabinet next to the fridge was open, and Ignis shut it quietly and pushed Prompto behind him. They both wore the black and maroon of his family colors, and there were cloth collars at their necks, with the Amicitia crest at the base. 

Gladio realized too late that he’d made no effort to hide his anger. He was used to being able to let his control over his scent go when he came home, but by the twist of Ignis’ mouth and the way Prompto kept trying to move around him, their scents pushing out full of fear and an attempt for calm, he was probably not making a good first impression. He struggled to rein in his temper, breathing in for a count of five. 

“My apologies,” Ignis said, before Gladio could speak. His accent was Tenebraen, dulled slightly with time.

“For what?” Gladio asked. There was an awkward silence as Ignis stood there, mouth open, shoulders tensed. 

“For… we shouldn’t have moved from our room,” Ignis said. “I asked Prompto to help. It was my transgression, I thought you might like us to prepare dinner, and…”

“Astrals.” Gladio ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to apologize for walking around.”

Prompto wriggled free of Ignis’ grip and ran forward, taking Gladio’s coat for him. Ignis made a slight keening sound of distress and took a step after him. “Oh. Uh, thanks, I don’t really…”

“It’s fine!” Prompto said. He hung the coat up on the rack. “And, um, Iggy’s a great cook. I mean sure, I never actually ate anything of his, but Noct says he’s—“

“Noct?” Gladio asked. Ignis paled.

“His parents named him after the prince,” he said. “A common practice in Lucis, I hear.”

Well, that was true. Gladio had run across more omegas named Noctis than he could count. The court had gone into a panic when the prince was revealed to be an omega, but the commoners in Insomnia, especially the omegas, took him on as a sort of unofficial patron. His death had caused riots in the lower city that went on for weeks. Gladio hadn’t been sure how to respond, himself: He was only supposed to start working with Prince Noctis as his Shield when he was twelve, and he was ten when the prince was killed. The photos that had been placed of him on the shrines around the city could have belonged to a stranger for all the times they’d met.

“Maybe we should all introduce ourselves,” Gladio said. “Is Noct in your room?” Ignis nodded and walked towards the living room, and Prompto ran up to hook an arm under his. 

Since Gladio was supposed to only bring one omega home, the room set aside for them only had one bed. This didn’t seem to be a problem, though, as the bed had been dismantled, with the headboard, frame, and posts leaning up against a corner of the room, while the mattress itself was spread out on the floor. Gladio recognized some of his couch pillows mixed in with the ones that framed the mattress in a small crescent moon shape, and the sheets and comforter had been arranged to take up the most room while still providing plenty of cover. Noct, the dark-haired omega, was standing back to get a good look at it by the time Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio arrived. 

He looked at Gladio sidelong and sat down in the middle of his impromptu nest. Ignis smoothed out his trouser legs before joining him, and Prompto flopped down with a squeak, grinning when Noct made a tch sound and readjusted the pillows he’d dislodged.

Gladio sat down on the floor, and Noct and Prompto gave each other startled looks. “Right. I’m Gladio. You’ve probably guessed that this is my first time taking in an omega…”

“Then you should know,” Noct said, and Ignis grabbed him by the shoulder, lips pressed tight. “We aren’t allowed to eat vegetables. Ever. It’s an omega thing. We’ll straight-up die.”

“He’s joking,” Ignis said, a note of panic in his voice. “He doesn’t intend to lie.” Noct opened his mouth, and Prompto covered it. 

“Yeah, well, neither do I.” Gladio took a deep breath. “Part of why you’re here is ‘cause my dad’s been after me to secure the line.”

Noct’s eyes widened. “How secure do you want it to be?” he asked, his voice muffled. Ignis covered Prompto’s hand, and Noct huffed through his nose.

“I ain’t exactly in a rush,” Gladio said. “And they said they were gonna split you up. Seems wrong, breaking up a pack like that.”

“We’re omegas,” Prompto said, in a dazed tone. “We aren’t a pack.”

He shrugged. “Seems like it to me. We can discuss the rest over dinner. I…” Oh, hell, he’d have to cook. “I got noodles, I guess.”

“We gathered.” Ignis’ smile was faint, but it was there. He removed his hand from Noct’s mouth. “If you’ll permit me,” he said, “I might be able to whip something up from what you have.”

“Please,” Gladio said, with a bow of his head. “Be my guest.”

-

“Potatoes!” 

Prompto twisted around from where he knelt on top of Gladio’s kitchen counter, and tossed a potato Gladio didn’t even know he had through the air. Noct caught it one-handed and slammed it down on the cutting board in front of him. 

“What do you need, Iggy?” he asked. 

“I need you to stop manhandling the ingredients,” Ignis snapped. “Cut it in cubes, please.”

“Just so you know, I’m rolling my eyes,” Noct said. He smirked when Ignis bumped his shoulder, and got to chopping. Prompto dropped down from the counter and handed a bottle to Ignis. Ignis uncapped it, sniffed, and sloshed a small amount into the pan on the stove. He tilted his chin, and Prompto hopped onto his toes for a kiss. 

“Wow, okay,” Noct said. Prompto preened. 

“Hey, I’m helpful like that,” he said.

“Hi, Helpful,” Ignis said, deadpan. “I’m Ignis.”

The others groaned loudly. From the couch, where he was trying to go over the minutes from the Council session that morning, Gladio looked up to see all three omegas smiling, unguarded and at ease. Then Prompto caught his eye, and drummed his hands on Noct’s shoulders as he passed around him to leave the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. 

“No, I’m good. You guys sure you don’t need any help?” Gladio set down his reports, and Prompto shook his head.

“I’m already in the way,” he said. He slipped around the edge of the couch and sat on the floor at Gladio’s side. “I mean it, though. Let me know if there’s anything you want. This is kind of my first time being with, you know, an actual alpha.”

“You weren’t before?”

“His last alpha hardly ever came home,” Noct said. His eyes were dark under his long bangs. “Me and Ignis, we were next door.”

“Well.” Gladio flipped through his papers. “I did miss going to the gym today.”

Prompto’s breath hitched. Gladio sat up, and his shadow passed over the blonde omega on the carpet.

“And so long as we have time to kill…”

-

“Oh my gods, Noct, you have to try this!”

Noct looked up from where he stood next to Ignis at the stove, and gave Prompto a slow, bored look.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “No thanks.”

Prompto made a small squeaking sound as Gladio moved from doing two-handed push-ups to one, and clutched the Council minutes papers. He sat cross-legged on Gladio’s back, shifting slightly with each upward movement, and cleared his throat impressively. 

“Zero nine-hundred hours,” he said. “Secretary Claudia suggests moving granaries to the outer limits of Lestallum. Sen. Gregor countered with…”

“I hate to break up what sounds like a lovely evening,” Ignis said, “but I believe dinner is ready.”

Gladio held a plank position. “Off we go, blondie.”

“Dude, we gotta do that again.” Prompto rolled off his back, and Gladio raised his brows when he saw Noct walking a single plate to the small dining table. 

“I’m pretty sure I have enough plates for everyone,” he said. “My sister comes over sometimes, so I have to.”

“You eat with your omegas,” Noct said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Not yet. I told you, you’re my first.” He stood behind his chair, waiting, and Noct set down the plate. 

“Weird, but okay.” He went to the counter, where Ignis was already setting up a second plate, and passed that one on to Prompto. When they were all seated at last, Prompto on the corner between Noct and Gladio, Noct latched to Ignis’ side, a piece of Gladio’s fight with his father came drifting to the forefront of his mind. In this case, as he watched the three omegas clean their plates like they hadn’t eaten in days, he thought that his father might have gotten at least one thing right:

Gladio had no idea what he was doing.


	3. Chapter 3

Gladio woke before dawn, not to the blare of his phone alarm, but to the hiss of his barely-used coffee machine. It was a present from Iris, a subtle dig at the fact that, despite his tendency to get up before six, he was never fully awake until ten. He kept a bag of Ebony coffee grounds in his cabinet for emergencies, but hadn’t found the time to brew anything in months. 

He quietly changed into his go-to black pants and grey tank: Thankfully, they were heading into a long weekend, and Gladio wasn’t due to appear at Council for another two days. There were voices coming from the kitchen, soft whispering that barely rose above the gurgle of coffee being brewed. Gladio stopped at the doorway to the living room and pressed his shoulder to the wall, peering in.

Ignis leaned against the dishwasher, holding a coffee mug in one hand. His hair was damp, his lips curved up in a smile, and he chuckled when Prompto stepped close to hold his bangs up and out of his eyes. 

“Nope,” Prompto whispered. “Don’t see it.”

“It took an unseemly amount of gel,” Ignis said. He took a sip of the coffee. “Gods, I thought I’d never do this again.”

“Is it always like this?” Prompto asked. “Having an alpha.” He left off holding Ignis’ brow, and ran his fingers down to trace the curve of his ear. “Coffee in the morning, eating together, getting your own room?”

“No.” Ignis’ voice was firm. “No, it’s never like this.”

“Gladio seems nice.”

“Thank the gods.” Ignis set down his mug. “The thought of an Amicitia being anything but is too harrowing to contemplate. I would like to have _some_ of my childhood illusions remain intact.” He pushed away from the dishwasher. “Let’s see to those eggs. He seems like an early riser to me, don’t you think?”

Gladio carefully inched back to his room, and loudly opened and shut his door. There came a frenzied clinking from the kitchen and a rush of water, and when Gladio stepped into the living room, Ignis was holding two mugs under the sink while Prompto placed an egg in a bowl of water. 

“Good morning,” Ignis said, a little too brightly. “I took the liberty of making coffee. How do you feel about eggs?”

“Is it _bad_ if they float?” Prompto whispered, nudging an egg across the surface of the bowl. Ignis’ smile twitched. 

“How do you feel about toast?”

-

After a passable, but somewhat embarrassing, breakfast of toast and jam, Gladio suggested that they head out to the store for more supplies. 

“My fridge is a mess,” he admitted, and Ignis smoothed out a smile with his knuckles. “And you guys are probably gonna need more bedding. I’m guessing Noct is the one who ran off with the pillows from the loveseat?”

“He nests,” Prompto said, simply. “It’s his way of showing he cares.”

“That,” Ignis said, “and uncivilized growling, apparently.”

“Aw, I think it’s cute. In a freakish kind of way.”

Gladio mentally went through a list of stores they’d have to hit. “I think I know a place. When does Noct wake up?”

There was a short silence.

“Voluntarily?” Prompto asked.

A few minutes later, Prompto inched his way into his, Ignis’, and Noct’s bedroom, sneaking furtive glances back at Ignis and Gladio in the hall. His smile was lopsided, and there was a faint hint of a blush under his dark freckles. “Hey, Noct,” he whispered. “Buddy, we’re goin’ out.” He disappeared behind the door. There was a short yelp, a rumbling growl, and a muffled shriek. Ignis sighed and felt for the doorway. 

He came out looking harried, his hair undone and his shirt tugged askew. “Prompto is lost to us,” he said. “I fear it’s only me for this trip.”

“He’s an aggressive cuddler!” Prompto cried. Gladio peeked in to find that Noct was indeed wrapped around Prompto, nosing into the curve of Prompto’s neck as the other omega raised his hands in surrender. Gladio snorted.

“You’ll be fine without them?” Gladio asked, walking slowly so Ignis didn’t have to rush to catch up on their way to the door. Ignis raised his one unscarred eyebrow and held out a hand. Gladio brushed it with his own, and Ignis let his hand travel up Gladio’s arm to rest on his upper shoulder. 

“Just let me know if I’m about to run into something,” Ignis said, “and I’ll be fine.”

Their first stop was a department store, where Ignis proved true to his word: He navigated by smell, Gladio noticed, keeping a wide berth around other shoppers as though skirting around invisible barriers. His hand rarely left Gladio’s back, but he did disengage when they reached the aisle where the comforters were. He ran his hands over each of them, frowning occasionally, and picked out two that _felt like Noctis._ One was all in silver and red, which was discarded as too flashy. Gladio tried to explain that the other option was worse, dotted with skulls and crossbones and the kind of black that picks up every speck of lint in a five mile radius, but Ignis had beamed so wide that Gladio’s protests died on his tongue. 

“It’s perfect,” Ignis said. He closed his right eye, and took a short breath. “What must I do for this?”

“What?” Gladio asked. “Nothing. Why would you—Put it in the cart, Ignis, and tell me what Prompto would want.”

It took Ignis a long, long moment to drop the comforter into the cart. He picked out a pillow shaped like a chocobo for Prompto, and Gladio had to wheedle him into accepting a dark purple throw for himself. 

By the time they hauled their bedding, toiletries, heat-easing pheromone sprays and a case of Ebony to the car, Ignis looked more than a little lost. He tapped his fingers on the dashboard as the engine turned over, and dragged at his lower lip with his teeth. 

“No offense,” Gladio said, still idling in their parking spot. “But your last alpha must’ve been a piece of shit.”

Ignis’ laugh was short and sudden, like it had been kicked out of him. “Oh, no,” he said. “I used to admire him.”

Gladio grimaced. “Key words here are _used to.”_

“I suppose. He was, oh, twenty when we were given to him,” Ignis said. He leaned back in his seat. “There he was, beautiful and poised, just like I imagined he would be. And I thought, here we are, here’s a friend. He’ll understand, he was _there.”_

“Where?”

“The…” Ignis’ mocking smile faded. “Ah, well. He had some similarities to us, that’s all. Noctis and I. But oh, Gladiolus, never give an omega to a man just out of his teens. He hated Noctis. Perhaps he hated that he was an omega, or that he was… well, you’ve seen Noct. He can be trying, at times. A year ago, he saw Noctis with another man’s omega, and he thought to make good on his threat to finally claim him. I asked him to mark me, instead.”

He shrugged one shoulder, and turned his ruined eye to Gladio. “Perhaps I should have specified how.”


	4. Chapter 4

Noct was holed away in his room when Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto carried up the bags from the car, but Gladio noted that the television in the living room was on, and one of his controllers had tipped off the couch to the floor. Prompto was at work putting up the groceries to Ignis’ exacting specifications, so Gladio grabbed the blankets and pillows and walked the towering armful to the omegas’ door.

“My hands are too full to knock,” he said, and he heard a faint grumbling from within. The door opened, revealing Noct’s ragged, unkempt hair, eyes baggy with sleep, and hunched shoulders. Gladio could sense the change in his scent, though, when Noct got a look at the horrible black and skull-patterned blanket. He gathered the whole mess into his arms and stepped back.

“Thanks,” he said, and used his foot to close the door in Gladio’s face.

He stood there a minute, wondering if he should be offended or amused, when the door opened again. Noct looked Gladio up and down, then bit his cheek. His left foot tapped on the carpet, and his fingers drummed an erratic beat on the side of the door.

“How good are you at moving furniture?” he asked. 

-

Gladio heaved the oak dresser another few inches to the left of the window. Sweat stung his eyes, and he could feel beads of it dripping down the back of his neck. There were bare patches on the wall from where he’d lifted off paintings, mirrors, and curtains to give them new homes, the carpet had lines crisscrossing the room from the movement of the dresser and end tables, and the remains of the bed-frame were gone. Noct stood in front of his elaborate nest of blankets, pillows, and the bed mattress to survey Gladio’s handiwork.

“You know what,” he said. “I think it was better where it was.”

Gladio groaned. “You have to be shitting me.”

Noct smiled. When Gladio set himself on one side of the dresser to push it back, Noct sat down in the middle of the bed and openly stared at the muscles shifting in Gladio’s back and arms.

“You ain’t gonna help a little?” Gladio asked.

Noct leaned back on his elbows with a long, slow yawn. “So what’s your deal, anyways?”

“What?” Gladio shoved, hating his family’s dedication to keeping impossibly heavy antiques long after their usefulness. Clothes hangers. That’s the way he should go.

“You’re an Amicitia, right?” Noct asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be, you know. Shields to the King?”

“Used to be,” Gladio grunted. 

“But the king’s dead,” Noct said. He said it simply, like dead kings were a fact of life, hardly as interesting as the position of the fuckingdresser. But when Gladio glanced over to say something scathing in response, he saw that Noct’s eyes were bright, his gaze sharp on Gladio’s red, sweating face. Gladio thought of the scar sealing Ignis' left eye shut, and looked down to Noct's hands clenched tight on the blanket beneath him. He let out a deep breath.

“Seems like," he said.

“So what’s your deal?” Noct asked again. “What does a Shield do when he isn’t, you know, a Shield?”

“Run the country, I guess.” Gladio ground the dresser to a halt and braced himself on the side of it, panting. “How’s this look?”

“Now the mirror’s wrong,” Noct said, and Gladio closed his eyes to draw on what little remained of his patience. “So how’s that working for you? The whole… country thing. Lucis doesn’t seem to be on fire to me, but it’s not like I—No, no, move it to the left, that’s too close to the window—not like I got the chance to get out much.”

“Doesn’t seem like you want to,” Gladio pointed out, and hung the mirror on a nail in the wall. “But yeah, Lucis is doing okay. You can come to the Citadel with me if you want, sometime. Once you get clearance.”

Noct stared at him. He was chewing on his cheek again, and with his hair falling out of his eyes, his fine cheekbones could just be seen, altering the line of his face. “Two inches to the left,” he said, and smirked when Gladio set the mirror down on the floor instead. 

“No,” he said. “No, we’re done here. Move it yourself, princess.”

Noct whistled softly, and his grin widened when Gladio turned back to glare at him. “Was wondering when you’d crack, big guy.”

Gladio closed the door to Noct’s low laughter. The odd thing was, he wasn't angry. He’d automatically gone with every order he’d been given, almost unconsciously, without considering that, as alpha, he had the ability to shut down Noct’s demands at any time.

He was starting to think that even on their own, these omegas might have been too much for him. All together? He glanced into the living room, where Prompto was holding himself up on the kitchen counter by his arms just so Ignis could kiss him on the cheek. Prompto’s bare feet hovered barely an inch off the carpet, and Ignis’ arm was draped over the counter, his fingers brushing over Prompto’s knuckles. 

He’d grown up hearing stories about alphas who went “too soft.” Alphas who let themselves be too enamored with their omegas, who deferred to their betas, who didn’t live up to the standards they were supposed to set for the rest of the country. Their roles were to protect and guide, not to be led. 

But as Ignis ran a finger down the line of Prompto’s nose and whispered into the scant inch between their lips, Gladio figured that he wouldn’t mind being soft. 

The days of their first week slowly took on a pattern. Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis would wake early for coffee. Ignis would go over Gladio’s daily schedule on an audio app on the computer as Gladio and Prompto warmed up for their morning run, stopping occasionally to ask questions or suggest changes. Prompto would wait at the door, bouncing on his new sneakers, and he and Gladio would go on a short jog around the block. Inevitably, they passed the neighbor who owned a giant brown labrador, so Gladio started changing their start time to allow for five minutes of Prompto cooing and throwing tennis balls and asking, _Who’s a good boy, then?_

Afterwards, Prompto would stand on his toes and read through the titles of Gladio’s books until they found one Ignis liked. When Gladio left for work, Ignis and Prompto would more likely than not be tangled up together on the couch, Prompto reading haltingly as Ignis sat back with another cup of coffee.

After work, he came home to find the TV abandoned and blinking again, and while Prompto ran about trying to be useful, getting tangled in Gladio’s Council robes and folding the laundry all wrong, Gladio would peek in to the omegas’ room and see Noct and Ignis, fingers laced together as they spoke.

That weekend, Gladio enlisted Noct’s help and drove Ignis to a specialist he’d called earlier in the week. Ignis came back with two canes, looking flustered and somehow very young, with none of the reservation that usually pinched at his brow or the edges of his mouth. When Prompto dragged him outside to give one of the canes a try, Noct pushed his shoulder up against Gladio, leaning in to his side. For a brief moment, Noct’s hand slipped into his, fingers squeezing gently. Then he was gone, and Gladio felt the loss of his touch like a crackle of electricity, of magic, numbing his skin.


	5. Chapter 5

“What if I get sick on him?”

Gladio looked over from where he was standing at the Citadel guard station, holding three visitor’s day passes in his hands. Noct was hanging back, an arm wrapped around Prompto’s middle, face pale in the harsh light of morning. Ignis was at Gladio’s side, and only Gladio caught the slight tsk of disapproval at Noct’s sullen tone.

“Not gonna help, Noct. If we don’t visit my dad, he’s visiting us,” Gladio said. Noct huffed. “He’s the head of the family. Can’t really avoid it.”

Not for lack of trying, though. Gladio had been ducking out of private meetings with his father for two weeks now, claiming to have work to do at home or a schedule to maintain, faking texts and jogging off with a hurried, _Sorry, Dad, dinner with Ignis, you know how it goes._ After almost a month of this, his father had decided enough was enough, and sent Jared around with an official invitation. 

Four invitations. 

“I’m just saying,” Noct said. “I might get sick on him anyways.”

“I appreciate your contribution to the war effort,” Gladio said, and Noct snorted. “Come on, we’ve got an hour to kill. I wanna show you around.”

Prompto was the only one who seemed remotely excited about visiting the Citadel. He broke out of Noct’s hold and hooked his arm around Gladio’s, making a running commentary for Ignis. 

“There are a million steps,” he said, as Ignis tucked his cane under an arm and began his ascent, dragging Noctis after him. “Noct’s gonna hate it. And there are these giant statues, right, except they’re pink for some reason.”

Gladio opened his mouth to explain, but Ignis’ voice cut through his. “The marble changes color when it rains, Prompto,” Ignis said. “What you’re looking at are most likely the statues of the old kings of the First Wall.”

Gladio raised his brows. “Yeah,” he said. “They are. How’d you—“

“Oh, you’d be amazed at what one can pick up. Come along, Noct, you’ll make me stumble at this rate.”

Noct muttered under his breath and picked up the pace.

The higher they climbed, the stronger Noct’s sense of unease became. Even Gladio could sense the change in his scent, and he added his own calming influence to that of Prompto and Ignis’, pushing it out until Noct practically growled in frustration. 

“I get it!” he snapped, when they reached the entrance at the top. “Quit trying to _smother_ me.”

A guard at the door, an alpha, gave Gladio an arch look. Gladio realized, a little belatedly, that most alphas would’ve shut Noct down before he even thought to talk back in the first place. He glanced at Noct, who was scowling at the inscription over the door as though it were a personal insult. 

“Hey,” he said. “It’ll be over before you know it.” The guard rolled his eyes, and Prompto squeezed Gladio’s arm reassuringly. They stepped into the lobby of the Citadel, and Gladio caught Noct shuddering at Ignis’ hand on his back.

“We’re meeting Dad just behind the throne room,” Gladio said, ushering them into an elevator. Prompto nearly got left behind staring at one of the paintings on the opposite wall, and Gladio was almost too busy manhandling him through the door to notice that Noct had already pressed the button for the floor to the throne room. 

But then, he reasoned, there had been a directory in the lobby. Never mind that Noct had kept his head down the entire time. Never mind that Ignis had pretty much led _him,_ with only a half-hearted attempt at using his cane. He watched Ignis and Noct as the floor numbers changed, examining the firm set to Noct’s mouth, the tight hold Ignis had on the smaller omega’s hand. 

Since it was a weekend, the hall passing by the throne room was almost deserted. Their shoes echoed off the tile, and Gladio could hear Noct’s short intake of breath at the sight of the wide throne room doors as they passed. 

“Mr. Amicitia!”

Gladio cursed softly, and Prompto grinned as a clerk ran forward, out of one of the rooms at the far end of the hall. She trotted up to him, arms wrapped tight around her briefcase, and bowed slightly. 

“Sir, your father just left for his offices on the sixty-fifth floor,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you. The maintenance crews are scheduled to go through the hall in about half an hour, so…”

“That’s fine,” Gladio said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, guys, I guess he knows we’re here. So much for free…” He turned, but the hall behind him was empty. “Time.”

Prompto’s grip on Gladio’s arm tightened. 

“Sir?” the clerk said. “Is something wrong?”

Gladio heard a low creak, and the shuffle of footsteps. “No,” he said, quietly. “No, just tell my father we’ll see him in an hour.”

“Ah, but…”

“He’ll survive,” Gladio said. “Excuse me.” 

He slipped his arm out of Prompto’s, and made his way towards the throne room. Prompto pattered after him, grinning nervously.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he whispered. “Noct probably just wanted to see—“ Gladio shushed him, and Prompto’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. The doors to the throne room were open just enough to let someone slip by, and Gladio eased his way through the gap, careful not to jostle the door. 

Inside, nearly swallowed by the long shadows of the high pillars and the sloping roof, Noct and Ignis approached the dais before the throne. 

“Has it changed at all?” Ignis’ voice was soft, but it carried in the empty stone and marble hall. Noct tripped down the steps of the dais, running his hand along the railing that led up to the throne. 

“Nah.” He dusted off his hands. “Just as depressing as ever.”

Behind him, Prompto grabbed the back of Gladio’s shirt. 

“We should have told him by now,” Ignis said. “I know you had your reservations, but…”

“Reservations?” Noct’s voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Ignis, they were talking about _revolution._ I was eight, okay? Eight, and people were sitting me down and telling me how Dad had to have another kid, because there’s no way in _hell_ Lucis would let an omega be king.”

He started to climb the curved stair to the late King Regis’ empty throne.

“It’s kind of funny, really,” he said. “They were gonna ship me off to Ravus anyway. Even before the attack. Can’t let an omega rule alone, right?” He stood before the throne, one hand resting on the arm of it, looking down.

“Noctis.” Ignis was climbing the stairs after him. Noct’s laugh was almost too soft to hear. 

“Lucis is doing fine without me,” he said. “They deserve someone who can rule, not…” He turned to sit on the throne, head bowed, hands clasped between his knees. Ignis carefully made his way across the platform, and laid a hand on his cheek before dropping to a knee before him.

Ignis’ voice was so faint that Gladio had to step out of the safety of the doorway. Prompto was fidgeting behind him, clearly sick with worry, half trying to hold him back. 

“You’ll always be deserving to me,” Ignis said. He held Noct’s left hand, and lifted the back of it to his lips. “Your Majesty.” Noct laughed again, and Ignis turned his hand to kiss his palm. “Noctis.” He brushed his lips over the inside of his wrist. “Lucis. Caelum.”

Gladio’s breath came out in a sharp hiss. Ignis’ shoulders straightened, and Noct looked up, cold blue gaze piercing through the dusty haze of the throne room, right into Gladio’s eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Caelum?"

Gladio's voice hadn't cracked since he was sixteen. It did now, a distinct, hysterical wobble in the middle of a shout that made the very air vibrate. Gladio strode across the empty room, his fine shoes kicking up dust. 

All the color that drained from Ignis' face seemed to be gathering in Noct's. The dark-haired omega on the throne sat back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, teeth pinching the corner of his lip. Gladio could smell the fear on Ignis even as the man rose, placing himself between Noct and Gladio-

Which made sense, now. Of course he didn't just protect Noct as his mate. Noct was Noctis, the prince... the king of Lucis. No wonder Ignis didn't want an alpha to mark him. No wonder he was willing to put his own life on the line, again and again, standing between alphas, tent guards, Gladio... 

Gladio looked closely at Ignis for what felt like the first time.

"Perhaps," Ignis said, "it would be best if we all sat down and--"

"There was this scrawny little omega kid," Gladio said. "About my age. Thick glasses, followed the prince and the king around."

Ignis' lips parted. "I wouldn't say scrawny," he said.

"Dad said he was with the prince when the Empire attacked Tenebrae," Gladio continued. "Said he died with him."

"They ever find a body?" Noct asked. He leaned around Ignis. 

"They assumed the fire..." Gladio said.

"Right. Right, but they never checked, did they? Because it was kind of a relief, right?"

"Noct." Prompto's voice was shaky and faint. "Come on, dude, don't."

"It was." Noct leaned forward on the throne. "You didn't have to deal with the problem of an omega prince anymore. The Amicitias could take over, and--"

"I was your Shield." Gladio could taste his own anger in the air. At his side, Prompto flinched back with a reproachful look, and Ignis laid a hand on Noct's shoulder. "I didn't care if you were an omega."

"You did when you bought me," Noct said. Gladio bristled.

"Okay," Prompto said. "We're all done posturing, so let's take this somewhere else."

"Not now, Prompto," Gladio and Noctis said, at the same time. Ignis frowned and took a step to the edge of the stair. 

"You could've said something," Gladio said. "You could've had your throne back, you didn't have to be fucking around in my apartment like you were--"

"Like I was an omega?" The bitterness was so thick in Noct's voice that Gladio could feel the sting of it. "And what'll they do when I'm back? Send me to the closest royal family, maybe try to give me back to Ravus? Score a deal with Niflheim this time?"

Gladio tamped down on a growl building low in his throat. "I wouldn't let them."

"Because you're my alpha?"

"Because I'm your Shield."

Gladio hadn't noticed how far he'd come until he was face to face with Ignis. He gently pushed past him, ignoring the strength Ignis put behind his own attempts to hold him back, and stopped before the throne. Noct looked so much younger in his father's old seat, the high back casting a shadow over his face, his slender shoulders small enough to be boxed in by the arms of the throne. He looked up at Gladio, breathing hard through his mouth, trying to offset the urge to yield that came in the presence of a furious alpha. 

Gladio dropped to his knees.

"I never got the chance to do my job before," Gladio said. "Trust me to do it now. Your Majesty."

Noctis lifted his hands to either side of Gladio's face, thumbs scraping along the scruff of his jaw. He leant forward, pressing his forehead to Gladio's, and if his shoulders shook with tears or laughter, it was too close to tell.

"Oh, Gladio." 

-

Clarus Amicitia looked up from his desk as the scent of a distressed, jittery omega cut through the flowers hanging in the corner of his study. A young man with a mess of blonde hair and a collar bearing Clarus' own crest stood there, bouncing on his heels at the open door. He was fiddling with his belt buckle, hands clearly unable to stay still for more than a few seconds at a time.

"You may come in," Clarus said at last, taking pity on the man. The omega walked in only a few feet, as though tethered to the door. "What's your name, son?"

"Um." The omega took a steadying breath. "Prompto Arg--Tum--Um. You take the last name of the alpha you're with, right?" 

"That's the general practice, yes," Clarus said, smiling despite himself.

"Oh. Okay, so I'm, um. Prompto Amicitia?"

"I suspected as much." Clarus folded his hands on his desk. "And I assume my son is about to come up with an excuse as to why he can't see me in person?"

"Don't you know it," Prompto said. "I mean, yes? One of the other omegas, Noc--Noct Gar. Noct Gar, he's, um, in heat. Right now."

"All of a sudden," Clarus said, with a smile.

"Yep. Weird how that happens." Prompto smiled back. Gods, Clarus could see the appeal of this one at least. He could be lying (very poorly) through his teeth, and Clarus would still find him endearing. 

"Well, far be it from me to tell my own son what to do with his omegas," Clarus said. "Tell him that I'm beside myself with rage."

Prompto dug his hands in his pockets. "Want me to say you yelled that last part?" he asked. "Uh, sir?"

"If you like." Clarus tried not to laugh through Prompto's repeated attempts at bowing his way out of the room, and held up a hand. "A moment. Tell me, how is my son behaving himself? Are you being treated well?"

"Oh." Prompto shrugged. "Yeah, he's great. We go running all the time, and I get to sleep indoors, and like, we get three meals a day even though it isn't a holiday or anything. And he does this thing where I hold his feet when he does sit-ups, and every time he counts off I kind of want to kiss his stupid face?"

He said the last part in one great rush of breath, and by the time Clarus had managed to translate, was already out the door.

Well. Clarus reached for his files and shook his head. Maybe the boy wasn't such a hopeless case, after all.

-

"Dude, I'm never doing that again," Prompto said, ducking under Gladio's arm as soon as he caught up with the other three. Gladio hugged his shoulders, and Noct reached around to muss his hair. "But, I mean, when you get around the terrifying alpha thing, your dad's not that bad. Kind of nice."

"He has his moments."

"I used to be frightened of him, myself," Ignis said. "I recall he was a giant of a man. Long hair to his shoulders--"

"Yeah, that's gone. It's white, too."

Ignis looked aghast. "In only twelve years? Gods."

Noct grinned, a little shakily, as they stepped out into the open. He plucked at a light brown strand of Ignis' hair. "Lookin' a little silvery yourself, Ignis."

Ignis pushed him with a shoulder, and Noct cackled. "Years of service, and this is how I'm rewarded. Grey before thirty."

"Don't listen to him," Gladio said. "You're gorgeous." Ignis flushed pink, and Noct narrowed his eyes.

"I never said he wasn't!"

They piled into Gladio's car in silence. Gladio looked at each of them in turn. King, companion, commoner, and Shield. A strange group, still new and a little uncertain, poised to throw the whole kingdom in an uproar.

"So," Noct said. "What now?" 

Gladio turned on the ignition. The car roared to life, and over the rumble of the motor, Gladio's voice was level and sure.

"Well," he said. "I was thinking that we regroup. Go through our options. And maybe, with your permission, Your Majesty, we might see about getting your throne back."


	7. Chapter 7

It was the end of their first year, and Noct still hadn’t met Gladio’s father. 

He sat outside of Clarus Amicitia’s office, Ignis straight-backed on one side, Prompto trying not to sprawl on his other, while Gladio knelt before him, adjusting the knot of his tie. The alphas and betas who passed them openly stared, but Gladio was used to it by now. He didn’t see the point in hiding what these men could do to him: Ignis, who could undo him with a touch at his cheek, light and teasing, as Gladio taste-tested his new recipe at the stove. He was helpless when it came to Prompto: They’d already adopted a dog they encountered on one of their morning jogs, just because Prompto had turned to him with that wide, upturned smile and asked. Their name was Ava, a small, white-haired creature that bounded at Prompto’s heels and was banned from the omegas’ room after ripping apart one of Noct’s favorite pillows. And Noct, well, anyone would upend their lives for Noct. 

“You ready?” Gladio asked. Noct looked down at him, his face sickly pale.

“If I say no, can I hide in your apartment forever and just forget this?” he asked. Prompto smacked him on the back.

“Come on, buddy, think of it like a video game.” Prompto jerked a thumb at Clarus’ door. “It’s a fetch quest. Step one is talking to Clarus. He’s nice, I promise.”

“Yeah, you’d know,” Noct said. Prompto winked, and Noct groaned softly. It was true that Prompto visited the other Amicitias regularly, sometimes without Gladio, dragging Ignis along only to come back with armfuls of handmade plushes from Iris, audiobooks from Clarus, and too many embarrassing childhood stories of Gladio’s to count. 

When Noct finally walked into Clarus’ office, he did it with Prompto’s hand on his back.

Clarus looked up with a practiced smile, which died on his face in slow degrees. Noct fidgeted, and Prompto pushed at his back a little, nudging him forward. 

Clarus’ voice came out harsh as a crow’s. “Regis?“ 

“Wrong Caelum,” Noct said, and Gladio resisted the urge to cover his face with both hands. Clarus knocked his phone off the desk in his hurry to rise. He crossed the distance in a few short strides, taking Noctis’ head in his hands, tilting his chin up for inspection. 

“Gods. Noctis? Prince Noctis?”

“In the flesh,” Noct said, and wheezed when Clarus wrapped him in a crushing embrace. 

-

Shortly after the start of their second year, Clarus Amicitia opened the Council of Insomnia with an emergency meeting. The Council members sat on either side of the long table, the seat of the king left alone at the head, and watched their most distinguished colleague with expressions ranging from exhausted boredom to tense concern.

“There has been a vacancy at the Council table these past twelve years,” Clarus said, in the formal tones he used for public addresses, “out of deference to our late king. It is time that vacancy is filled.”

The members of the Council sat a little straighter in their seats when Gladiolus stood to open the door. The man who entered was an omega: A rarity in Council meetings, as there was hardly a reason for an omega to seek employment in the Citadel as a clerk or secretary. The omega smiled at Gladiolus as he passed, and Gladio bowed, causing a chorus of whispers to break out. The newcomer wore a variant of the basic Council robes, with a gold pauldron on his shoulder, and a chain pinning a short cape in place. When he sat down at the empty chair where King Regis had once presided, one of the senior members of the Council stood in indignant protest. Clarus stared him down, and the omega in the king’s seat lay his hands flat against the table. The black signet ring of the royal family glinted on his left ring finger. 

“Don’t mind me,” said Noctis Lucis Caelum, as the whispers rose to a roar. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to start.” 

-

“If the three of you sync your heats again, I’m gonna die,” Gladio said in the summer of their third year, rolling onto his stomach in their new rooms at the Citadel. Noct, who was dragging Ignis down for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past three days, laughed darkly. Ignis only moaned, hips rolling over Noct’s in lazy, tight circles.

“Fuck’s sake, again?” Gladio asked. Prompto, who looked about as exhausted as Gladio, moved to his side just far enough to smack Gladio’s ass in a show of sympathy. Gladio grabbed the offending hand and reeled Prompto in, holding him flush to his chest. He lowered his head to the bonding mark on Prompto’s neck, and when he kissed it, the defined muscles of Prompto’s broad shoulders tightened, his hands searching for purchase on Gladio’s back. Gladio looked up to find Noct watching them. His fingers traced over the mark on Ignis’ neck, and Ignis smiled into a kiss on his jaw.

“When you’re king,” Gladio said, and Noct sighed, turning away. They were as good as bonded already, but a mark on the king’s neck would make his attempt to reclaim his throne look like nothing more than a power play on behalf of his alpha. It was better to wait, even if they did have to be separated at times during the worst of their heats or ruts, temporarily overcome. 

Ignis sat up and pulled himself away from a confused, wide-eyed Noctis. “If you won’t stop fantasizing about Gladio when I’m right here, Noct,” he said, striding over to where Gladio and Prompto were exchanging soft kisses. “Then I have no choice.” He lowered himself to Gladio’s other side, and gently pressed him down on his back. Gladio grinned at Noct as Ignis straddled his waist, one long hand reaching out until Prompto and Gladio tried to catch it at once, their hands tangling together as Noct gasped in outrage.

-

In their fifth year, just as their first daughter celebrated her birthday, an aide of Niflheim’s Imperial High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret released a video of one of Noctis’ early heats. 

Noct threw down his phone. “Of course a sick sack of shit like Ravus would have cameras installed,” he said, pacing the same stretch of floor he’d been retreading since the video had been uploaded. “And right when I was getting approval from the fucking Council—“

“Language,” Ignis said, picking up his daughter from her playpen. She squealed and shoved her hand in his mouth. 

“Rae’s not old enough to talk yet,” Noct muttered, shamefaced.

“She’s old enough to listen.” Ignis bounced the girl on his hip, walking her out of the living room and into the nursery. From where he sat on the couch, Prompto was trying to override his own distress in order to calm down Gladio, who felt seconds away from getting in his car and driving to Niflheim so he could kill Ravus with his bare hands. 

“The omegas and betas in the city love you,” Prompto said. “Even some of the alphas, in a weird, protect-the-king kind of way. This’ll just make them take your side. I mean… the video…” He closed his eyes. “Did he always chain you, or—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Noct said. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll never be king, not after this.”

Gladio held out an arm, and Noct collapsed on his side, drawing his legs under him on the couch. “Give the people a little more credit,” Gladio said. "Something like this, you won't know how they'll react til it happens.

That night, the empty tents of the omega markets in the main square of Insomnia burned to the ground. 

-

“You guys aren’t making me late for my own coronation,” Noctis said, standing before the mirror of their shared bedroom at the height of their tenth year. He’d finally managed to grow something resembling a beard, which he was meticulously examining as Gladio disappeared in a cloud of taffeta and silks. 

Prompto had unleashed chaos on the four of them by opening the door for their daughters: Rae, dignified at six in her light blue dress, her brown hair tied back in a braid. Juno and Lily, twins with Prompto’s freckles and Gladio’s flares of temper, loudly protesting that Papa Ignis had tried to make them eat _tomatoes,_ which ranked right up on the list of horrors alongside spiders, behemoths, and eldritch abominations. Then there was the youngest, Artemis, who at almost two wandered after the twins with tearful determination. The only thing she’d inherited from Noct was her dark hair and a tendency to sleep in, a blessing after years of waking up to the twins screaming at one in the morning. The four of them piled onto the bed, where they jumped on Gladio’s chest and complained about having to wear _dresses_ for hours.

“Bye bow,” Artemis said firmly, shoving a blue ribbon in Gladio’s face. “Daddy wear bow. Bye-bye! Bow is gone now, bye.”

“She’s been doing this all morning,” Rae wailed. 

“She’s been doing this all morning,” chorused the twins. 

“Them, too! Dad, make them stop, make them sto-o-op.” She jumped off Gladio, who struggled for air, and grabbed Prompto by the arms. Prompto laughed. 

“Okay, uh. Girls, you should… stop... everything?” 

“Well done, Prompto,” Ignis said. He was going over his dress uniform by touch, adjusting buttons and the fit of his vest. “Please tell me you at least remembered to shut the door—“

“Ava, no!” Rae cried, as their old, chubby family dog bounded into the room. The girls screamed, trying to keep their new dresses out of the way of the excitable dog’s paws, which were still dirty from his early run with Prompto. Artemis scooted down off the bed and toddled towards Ava, arms out. 

“Hello,” she said. Gladio lifted a squealing Lily off his stomach and swept Art off the floor before Ava could lick her hair out of style. She looked up at him, then down at the wriggling dog, and burst into furious tears.

“Okay, out!” Noct cried. He whirled around. “Royal decree! Anyone who isn’t a dad has to leave this room or risk beheading. One. Two.”

The shrieks increased in volume. Ava whimpered and scampered off, and Ignis frowned, pressing at his ear pointedly. He followed the girls out, promising cookies later if they could behave.

“But I always behave,” Rae said, as Ignis shut the door behind them. 

Noct took a breath in the sudden silence, the chains of his office shining as he moved. 

“Take it this way, Noct,” Prompto said, smiling as he straightened Gladio’s collar. “After this? Running the country’s gonna be a _breeze.”_


End file.
